Is Fear With Us Or Against Us?
by Kazooland
Summary: My take on the mystery that surrounds Fiddlesticks.


The long war is finally over. The fifth Rune War, to be precise. Many were relieved that the seemingly endless war is done and gone. There was one that was especially happy.  
The town was dark and gloomy that afternoon. It had rained throughout the good part of the day, yet still, no matter what the weather, there were people celebrating.

Sitting in the mess hall, smiling with glee, was one of the League's very first summoners, Istvaan - a powerful rune mage that hailed from Zaun.

"Congratulations, Istvaan!" a fellow summoner called, holding up a glass of some odd drink. "Being named the first summoner of the League - it is a great honor to be a friend."

Istvaan gave his friend a pat on the back with just a bit too much force put into it. He stumbled forward, drops of the drink splashing out of the mug onto the tabletop. Istvaan declared, "It may be a great honor, Friedrich, but it is also a privilege. I speak for many of us who may already been entitled to being a summoner, and for those who will become one in the future. It is a great responsibility. That is what I think."

Friedrich gave Istvaan a short applause, then set his mug down on the table. "Great words, my friend. I must leave now, I have duties to attend to."

Istvaan watched Friedrich's back as he left, the purple cloak trailing wildly behind him. As soon as he was sure that he was out of sight of everyone that may be nearby, he set down his own mug and ran up the massive sets of stairs that led to the higher floors of the building. Nobody knew what went through Istvaan's mind during the day. Nobody knew but him. His little secret to keep. Long story short, Istvaan felt that the old ways of magic were not enough. It made him feel... Let's just say it made him feel trapped. He wanted more and more powerful. He wanted to be the most powerful being there was. Everyday, Istvaan was going further and further outside the rules that were laid down by the League, and doing rituals that were forbidden.

But one of the rituals stood out from the rest - The most forbidden.

That night, Istvaan locked himself into the eastern summoning chamber at the very peak of the building. Turning around, he made sure that the already heavy door was sealed tight and secure, just if someone would come up and try to open it. If anybody found out that he'd been doing what he has, he'd be thrown out with no exceptions.

After he set up the chamber to his liking, he began a long, dull incantation. At first he had thought it would fail, since it seemed to take forever until it began to work. At the first light of dawn, the spell finally took action. A blinding light filled the room, throwing Istvaan back forcefully, hitting the wall. He grunted out in pain, resting on his knees on the floor. He watched in terror as his spell began to take form. Unearthly wails and moans emanated from this strange glow, and immediately, Istvaan knew he was wrong. He suddenly knew that attempting the forbidden rituals was the worst thing that he could do, and that it has already ruined everything as he knew it. The worst part is... He had just performed the most forbidden ritual one could ever do - an extra-planar summoning. Istvaan was filled with terror and fear, driving him to the brink of insanity.

Suddenly, Istvaan was gone. He was never there to witness the finished product of his extra-planar summoning.

This is the worst part of the story; the part where this horrid monster takes its shape. It seemed to be very tall - taller than your average human man, at least. Lanky sticks formed its limbs, which were tied together where the joints would be on a human. Its head seemed to be the scariest part of the entire being. This monster's eyes were just gaping holes filled with a bright, burning emerald glow. The gaze was hypnotizing. The hands were huge, covered with rough-textured gloves tied with strings to the ends of the aforementioned sticks. Clutched in those hands was a massive, unearthly scythe; its blade was sharper than razors and probably as strong as a diamond.

The monster, now fully developed and as strong as ever, now glanced about the room in confusion. Where was he? How had he gotten here? He only knew one thing - somebody had committed a great crime to get him here. Somebody had done the forbidden. This person, whomever or whatever it may be, had talent and great power. He wanted to meet this person, but how? Nobody was in the chamber. Had they fled? Had they fled in fear and terror, having seen the monster that they had summoned? This creature didn't know. All that was left that had shown even a trace of this person was a dark, majestic purple cloak on the wooden floorboards of the chamber. It stretched out its long fingers and picked up this cloak, looking at it, examining it. The monster clutched it close in its hands. The creature would wait for his summoner to return, no matter how long and no matter what the cost.

It was years that he waited. Dust had already began to settle, and yet it never stirred from its silent vigil. It crouched in the far corner of the summoning chamber, never letting go of the cloak that once belonged to his summoner. Until one day, something changed. People had finally begun to question Istvaan's disappearance.

That day, no champion arrived to represent Zaun at Summoner's Rift. This caused many people to speak up in worry.

After years of waiting for Istvaan's return, the people started a search. There was only silence replying toward repeated knocks on the door, so they left it alone. However, one poor apprentice was curious enough to look behind the doors of the forgotten chamber. It was a struggle to get the heavy wooden planks of the door open. He had to use every ounce of his strength, pushing as hard as he could, just to get it to budge. When the door was finally thrown open, the poor apprentice barely had time to process what was going on before the horrendous, unearthly scythe had cut down the apprentice. Only a few out of the people that followed after the young apprentice had lived to speak of the event, of the horrible creature that sits waiting in the chamber, and yet they couldn't speak of it at all. They were driven insane with terror and fear, speaking madly of crows and death.

After finding out that it was indeed Istvaan that had committed this crime, the League was afraid of the monster. If even Istvaan, a very great and powerful summoner, could not control it, who could? So they sealed off every single entrance and exit to this chamber, allowing nobody in. They hoped to contain this monster, since nobody was capable of destroying it.

Even more years went by and still the creature did not move. The only exception was to slay any that were foolish enough to open the doors and disturb his silent vigil.

One day, the League found a way to use the monster - executioner. They sent one brave soul up to retrieve the monster and, to their surprise, it obeyed without a single word. It never strayed from the rules of the League just as its summoner, Istvaan, had done.

He abides by every rule and obeys every order without question as he fights on the Fields of Justice. Yet nobody knows exactly why this strange monster ended its waiting. There is no person that knows what he is waiting for when he sits, silent and still, in his chamber. He gives off no clues, as he has hid the cloak that once belonged to Istvaan, and he still holds his scythe ready to stop anyone that chooses to stand before him. Only once has he ever spoken to us:

_"Those who say 'you have nothing to fear but fear itself' have not yet felt the crows."_

If you're reading this, you're probably asking how I know all of this.

_But for now, that's a secret._


End file.
